for Tuticorin, and arrived there
at 5 P.M.

* * * * *

TUTICORIN: Tuticorin, on the Gulf of Manaar, is the port of departure
for Colombo, Ceylon. We had only a hurried glimpse of the city, showing
white buildings, white sand, and the blackest natives we had yet seen.
We inferred they were Tamils. A pleasant night on the steamer followed.

* * * * *

COLOMBO, _January 25th_: The morning of January 25th saw our approach to
the fine harbor of Colombo, and we felt that at last our dream of
viewing the beautiful island of Ceylon was to be realized. Our first
impression was received at the landing jetty, where it seemed as if
every nationality had its representative, so varied was the appearance
of the natives,--the Laskas from the Malay Peninsula, the Hindus from
India, as well as Tamil coolies, Arabs from Aden, Buddhist priests, and
Mohammedans. We found excitement on our arrival at the hotel, owing to
the expected appearance of the ex-Empress Eugenie and her suite, as well
as Sir Thomas Lipton and numerous other notable guests.

[Illustration: _Street scene in Colombo_]

The ride to the hotel, located on the sea, had shown us unusual
luxuriance of vegetation and wonderful trees both in fruit and in
blossom. This fact was emphasized by a long afternoon drive, beginning
in the native quarter with its attendant bazars and ending with a long
country tour for at least an hour through a forest of palms of many
varieties, the tall talipot towering high--higher even than the
fruit-laden cocoanut palm,--while bread-fruit trees, jack-fruit trees,
and bananas made a pleasing variety. A little diversion occurred when a
boy climbed a tall cocoanut palm, procuring a fine specimen, and opened
it for us to try. We passed the Victoria Bridge, which took the place of
the bridge of boats, returning to our hotel by a way that revealed still
more tropical wonders. The fine Galle Face Hotel, with its sense of
spaciousness and restful ease, the illuminated grounds, the band, and
the dash of the waves caused that first Saturday evening to seem almost
perfection; one and all felt willing to linger on indefinitely, but,
alas, the iron-clad itinerary must be met, and a week in the mountains
was to follow!

Colombo is a fine place in which to study types, and nothing is more
peculiar than the Cingalese man, with his long hair braided in a knot at
his neck, with the broad shell comb